


Childish Game

by Thatkindoffangirl



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Humiliation, I am so sorry, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Urination, gunplay mention, tiny amounts of blood, you'll see the urination thing coming from like 2000 miles away so you can easily avoid it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkindoffangirl/pseuds/Thatkindoffangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaz loved to play with Ocelot’s boundaries. It was a risky game, pushing them further, testing their breaking point. It wasn’t just that he would have soon found himself on the other side, but that Ocelot’s consideration towards him was even weaker than the one he had towards Ocelot: he could have ruffled his feathers a little, made him uncomfortable— maybe even go as far as to humiliate him; but when Ocelot was in control, if Kaz got him too worked up, if he gave him the impression that everything was fair game — well, then Kaz could have easily ended up in the infirmary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childish Game

John’s pants were still hanging open as he sat over a crate in the back of the storage room, palming his leg pockets for the emergency cigar he always kept tucked there. There was no point —he had learned that with time— in hanging around Kaz and Ocelot after they had declared him done: in the best case he was going to be bored, forgotten in the sideline; in the worst, they would have managed to drag him in one of their twisted games, for which he had no real interest and even less understanding. They loved to mess with each other, that much had been clear from the beginning, but to John’s own bemusement the nature of their relationship went further than the bickering of two childish grown-up soldiers. It wasn’t just that they _loved_ messing with each other, it was for them a far more sensual and frenetic dance, something deeper than sex could ever be. And so John watched them from afar, smoking.

“Are we going to do something or is it _boredom_ that gets you off?” Ocelot was asking. It was impressive how confident he managed to sound despite all the exhaustion his body showed: his chest heaved with each breath, making his lips tremble on the way down; sweat and semen —some of which had gotten in his bloodshot eyes— were sticking strands of his hair to his forehead; his knees, reddened from the prolonged contact with the floor, were visibly shaking under Kaz’s weight. He had tied his wrists together behind his back and was now standing there with a gloating look on his face, his foot pressing Ocelot’s shins harder against the ground.

“Getting off to boredom is my salvation, Ocelot.” Kaz grinned, watching Ocelot twiddle his arms to loosen the rope he had tied too tight on purpose. “How else could I enjoy watching those sloppy blowjobs you give?”

“You shoot your mouth off when my hands are tied,” Ocelot sneered with one last, frustrated yank. “I don’t recall your _gargling_ sounding as cocky last time I—”

“That’s because—” Kaz cut him off, pulling his head up by his hair. He kneeled down, his shins taking the place of his foot in keeping his legs on the floor. “—because you shoved that barrell so deep down my throat I had trouble speaking for the whole week.”

Ocelot smirked in self-complacence, bowing his head as deeply as the hold on his hair allowed him.

Kaz smirked back. He took a thumb to Ocelot’s lips, tracing them from end to end, watching Ocelot’s eyes widen in anger as he flicked his bottom lip open to see it spring back in its place. Cum had dribbled down the corner of his mouth and was barely starting to dry; he followed the path down with his thumb, smearing the liquid over Ocelot’s chin.

“Get your hands off me, asshole!” Ocelot said between his grinded teeth.

“I’m just trying to help.”  
  
Slowly, Kaz opened his fingers. His fingertips spread over Ocelot’s cheek, lightly skidding over the white trickles on his cheekbones without brushing them away; the muscles on Ocelot’s neck tensed under his touch, too gentle and kind for his taste. He lowered his palm to cup his cheek, then dragged it down and smeared cum across Ocelot’s whole face. Kaz grinned as he squirmed, moving his thumb back on his lips, prying the bottom one open and brushing his fingertip against his teeth to enjoy the contrast of his skin against the white.   
  
He loved to play with Ocelot’s boundaries. It was a risky game, pushing them further, testing their breaking point. It wasn’t just that he would have soon found himself on the other side, but that Ocelot’s consideration towards him was even weaker than the one he had towards Ocelot: he could have ruffled his feathers a little, made him uncomfortable— maybe even go as far as to humiliate him; but when Ocelot was in control, if Kaz got him too worked up, if he gave him the impression that _everything_ was fair game — well, then Kaz could have easily ended up in the infirmary. That risk, however, made it, if anything, more exciting. He was a natural born gambler, always observant, a keen nose for troubles...  
  
And yet he didn't see Ocelot’s mouth snapping forward to bite his finger.

“You little fucker—” Kaz gnarled, caught by surprise. He jerked his hand back, but found his knuckle caught in Ocelot’s bite; cursing again, he pulled him back by the hair he was already holding, prying his mouth open as Ocelot’s neck tensed with the effort to keep himself straight.

Ocelot both gargled and laughed, the two sounds rising together from the bottom of his bent throat; satisfied, he stretched his lips outwards to show Kaz’s his red-smeared teeth.

“You _really_ need to learn how to use that mouth,” Kaz said.

He sucked the blood away from his thumb, then fanned his hand to get it dry. When the bleeding stopped, he brushed his lips against Ocelot’s adam apple, which was frantically heaving as he tried to breathe. He kissed it lightly, trailing upward toward his jaw and leaving wet marks on his trail, feeling Ocelot’s laugh turned into a growl against him. Giggling, he slid his throbbing thumb back inside Ocelot’s mouth, carefully releasing the pull on his hair in perfect timing with his finger pushing down on his jaw, straightening his head again but not allowing him to bite.

“See, Ocelot,” Kaz said in a pedantic tone, “you are especially lacking in the basics.” He took his eyes to the same level as Ocelot’s, who frowned in anticipation: he always knew when payback was coming. “What you need to use is not your teeth. It’s your _tongue_.”

He thrusted his mouth forward.

When Kaz’s lips closed on his upper one, Ocelot’s head jerked back, but was stopped by the hand which still clutched his hair. There was a lingering taste of cheap meal wine in Kaz’s breath, crawling inside Ocelot’s mouth as Kaz’s tongue slid out to drag over the contour of his lip, teasing the sunken part where its two half met. Ocelot clenched his jaw harder trying to shut it, but Kaz’s grip was too strong. His lips were tingling, everything inside him urging him to get away, and yet he was trapped; he twiddled his wrists again, hoping to loosen the rope tying them. It was useless.

He saw the corners of Kaz’s mouth twist upward in a grin, then felt his tongue sliding inside him. Kaz rubbed it against his teeth, skimming over the back ones to reach the front again, then traveling on the floor of his mouth to access the tongue that Ocelot had rolled out of reach. Without hesitation, Kaz traced its sides, joining the tips together then using its own to push down against Ocelot’s resistance. Ocelot dug his teeth deeper in Kaz’s thumb, which still forced his mouth open. Their tongues twisted around as Ocelot fought to escape; his neck tensed in under Kaz’s grip as he failed to repress a moan. The air in his mouth vibrated with Kaz’s laugh and their tongues twisted around one last time before Kaz broke the kiss and rose up again, patting his hands on his pants to clean them from spit.

“Disgusting,” Ocelot said. He spat on the floor, deliberately aiming near Kaz’s shoes.   
  
Without wincing, Kaz cleaned the splatters against Ocelot’s leg. “You know,” he said, “it would all be easier if you weren’t scared of people touching you.”

“ _Scared_?” Ocelot scoffed. “I simply have standards, Miller. Unlike you.”

“ _Standards_?" Kaz laughed. "What are your _standards_ , Ocelot? ‘Soldiers whose code name is Snake’?”

“And what are yours, Kaz? ‘People that breathe’? You’d fuck everyone.”

“You’d fuck no one.”

“Didn’t I fuck _you_ last time?”

“Sticking guns down people’s throats is not fucking.” Kaz kneeled on him again, his eyes back to Ocelot’s level. He flicked the tip of his nose with his index, quickly pulling it back as Ocelot’s mouth snapped at him once more, the bite barely missing. “Face it, Ocelot—" he smirked again "—you love being the Boss’ little, whiny bitch. You’d let him piss on your face if he asked you to.”

Ocelot sneered. “What I would—”

He choked on his words as Kaz shoved his fist in his mouths then spread his fingers open inside to keep Ocelot’s teeth from biting in his skin again.   
  
“Hey, Boss!” Kaz shouted. “Ocelot wants you to pee on him!”

Caught by surprise, John suddenly forgot how to pull on his cigar. He spat the smoke out, sputtering and bumping on his chest, then gasped for air. He had been distracted, the peacefulness of his poistcotal daze lulling him in the quiet warmth of the room.

“Wh— what?” he asked. His vision was blurry with tears.

“That’s what he said, Boss.”

Wiping his eyes, John looked at the scene in front of him: Ocelot, still on his knees, was actively trying to bite off Kaz’s hand which was lodged in his mouth, swinging his whole body around to get him off his leg; at the same time, Kaz sat on him, keeping his legs on the ground with his knees, his free hand wrapped around his neck in the effort of keeping it still enough for his other wrist not to break.

"Look,” John said, “I don't think—”

“Boss!” Kaz rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He yanked Ocelot's neck straight again. “Follow the rules and play along!”

John had his mouth hanging open. His first instinct was talking them out of it, the second, straight up refusing. But then, that had been his instinct countless time before, and it had never worked as he hoped: it didn’t matter who the request came from or how hideous and weird it was — when he fought back, both Kaz and Ocelot ended up mad at him; the only time they really acted as a team. And so he got up, sighing, putting out his cigar on the crate he had been sitting on, then tossing the butt on the floor. He ignored Kaz smirking at him.

“Let’s test my theory, shall we?” Kaz asked, moving his gaze back to Ocelot. Swiftly, he pulled away from his legs to smash him flat on the ground.

“You are fucking dead after this,” Ocelot said, out of breath. Kaz was keeping him down by pressing on his neck, choking him.

“Are we going too far, major?”

Kaz raised a hand, signaling John to stop. John, however, just rolled his eyes, and kept unbuttoning his pants.

“We can stop, if you ask us to," Kaz continued in a falsely concerned tone. "I’d never want you to feel _uncomfortable_.”

“I’ll line your casket with your own skin—"

“Fine then.” Kaz lowered his arm, nodding encouragingly to John, who just shook his head and focused on the wall in front of him, not able, however, to resist the temptation of throwing a furtive glance at Ocelot laying under him. He had closed his eyes, trying to relax and save the tiny amount of oxygen that Kaz, whose hand was still on his throat, was allowing him. The sleek layer of semen that had been spread on his face made the red on his cheeks — due to embarrassment  and lack of air both — shine even brighter. John was almost tempted to comment on how cute he looked, but quickly shook the idea away: if Kaz and Ocelot needed something it certainly was not more encouragement.

"Don’t get anything up your nose," Kaz said, pinching Ocelot's nose shut just as the first drop of pee touched his face.

As his last air supply was cut away, Ocelot's hands automatically jerked forward to get it back, forgetting the rope that still tied his wrists together. He whimpered. His already weakened lungs now ached for oxygen, screamed at him for air. He could feel his lips trembling and Kaz's grip loosening on his throat, inviting him to open his mouth. He tried to focus his thoughts away, tune down the panic he knew wasn't going to help him. Warm, wet streams of liquid trickled down his lips on the side of his face, running along his cheek and washing both sweat and sperm away before pooling under him and wet the tips of his hair. He jerked his neck to the side before opening his mouth to catch breath. The acidic taste of pee spread on his tongue, and he immediately closed his mouth again as he tried to clear his mind and focus on not puking. Slowly, the stream died away, the sound of the last drops falling echoing in the room. No one was speaking.

Without even looking at the others, John turned away and left, mumbling under his breath that he expected them to kill themselves one day.

It wasn't until he had closed the door behind him that Kaz’s fingers left Ocelot’s nose. Ocelot gasped, finally able to breathe normally. His cheeks, slowly reverting to a more natural shade, still burned against Kaz’s hand, that was caressing him with a kindness that made goosebumps erupt under the touch.

“I’ll make you regret every second of this,” he said.

“I know, Ocelot.” Kaz smirked. “I can’t wait.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Blame this all on ushas42. And thanks to tanalilt for beta-ing this for me. You are both wonderful.


End file.
